


psy·cho·sis

by chaotic_killjoy



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Insanity, M/M, Mental Hospital, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2019-07-03 15:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15821901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaotic_killjoy/pseuds/chaotic_killjoy
Summary: nouna severe mental disorder in which thought and emotions are so impaired that contact is lost with external reality...After his boyfriend's suicide, Frank is left to cope with insanity.





	psy·cho·sis

**Author's Note:**

> Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings. Please refer to the tags and read with discretion.

My eyes were closed, my body relaxed as I floated through the sea of color. I could feel the green beneath me, I could _feel_ it. It was crisp, and fresh. Blue was soft and cool. Red was warm and smooth. I could taste, yes _taste_ , the noises around me. The nurses shrill voices were bitter, and the sound of my fists banging on the carpeted walls were sour, but the music I often heard was so sweet, sweeter than anything you’ve ever tasted. I never used to be able to feel colors, or taste sounds, but now I can.

I smiled, opening my eyes to see his pretty face. He was beaming, the smile stretching from ear to ear. His hands were occupied, quickly drawing out a sketch on his paper. I looked over his shoulder to see, and to my surprise, it was like I was looking in a mirror. _‘Do you like it, Frank?’_ I heard his voice, far off and echoing. His face became a blur, as if someone smudged the picture. I squinted, struggling to remember his bright hazel eyes, to see through the blurriness.

He face twisted, distorted, and when it finally cleared, he was frowning. His eyes that were once bright, now dead and stale. _‘Frank, I’m fine, just leave me alone’_ he shrugged and turned away, fading into the nothingness. I squeezed my eyes shut, the tears escaping.

Is this reality? What is anymore? Nothing makes sense. I’m trapped like this, floating between fantasy and reality.

I felt his thumb slide across my cheek, wiping the tears away. I know they are his, they’re soft and warm. I felt him trace over my lips, whispering to me. _‘Frank, I love you’_ his voice faded as if it was blowing away with the wind. I tried to open my mouth to speak, to reply, to say it back to him, but I felt his lips pressed against mine. I relished in the feeling, it was the best feeling in the world.

The warmth disappeared. I opened my eyes to see only white. I stared harder at the texture of the white I saw, realizing it was carpet. I looked up, and looked around. I was sitting on the floor, on top of more white carpet. The entire room was white, including my clothes. I was wrapped in a jacket, my arms pinned to my sides so I couldn’t move them. I heard the nurses outside, talking about the patient, talking about how the patient was delusional. I stood, carefully balancing myself on my unsteady feet, and then hurtled myself at one of the walls. Let me out! My throat burned from screaming. I fell to the floor.

I heard sneakers hitting the pavement as he ran from the center of the rooftop to the edge. It was all in slow motion, I had watched him climb the stairs to the rooftop, and followed him. When he saw me, he turned, his face filled with sorrow. _‘I’m sorry Frank, but I have to do this’_ he whispered. Then he turned, running fast to the edge. I watched as his sneakers jumped, red with white laces, leaving the rooftop floor and soaring into the air. I felt the scream tear out of my throat, and ran to the edge, watching as the sneakers fell, seven stories down, before hitting the pavement with a splatter that matched their red color.

There was bright blinding light everywhere around me.

The light faded to white, the white carpet of my room. I heard a shriek, and realized it had come from my mouth, and that I was still shrieking. I closed my mouth, closing my eyes, and falling over. I want him. I want to leave this place. I want to see him again. I don’t want to keep floating between reality and fantasy.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a poem the author wrote when experiencing their own treatment.  
> Previously published on this site under a different account before moving to this one, and also on various other fanfiction sites.  
> *This fic does not intend to glorify or romanticise mental illness, but rather to briefly explore the creative concept. Please reach out for help if you are suffering from similar condition(s).*  
> Feedback is always appreciated.


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